


sick and full of pride

by mallfacee



Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: 1899, Canon Era, Feelings, Foreplay, Kissing, M/M, brief mentions of homophobia, lots of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 09:53:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4955782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mallfacee/pseuds/mallfacee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“And who says I’m yours?”</p>
<p>Spot tightened his grip on Race’s hips.</p>
<p> “I do.” </p>
<p>
  <i>all we do is think about the feelings that we hide</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	sick and full of pride

There was something euphoric about these meetings. Dark alleyways, moans muffled with shirt sleeves, always far too quick because they were the type of people whose absence was noticed. He felt like a child again, sneaking something he wasn’t supposed to. And though he was only sixteen, he hadn’t felt like a child in a long time.

 

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to your kingdom, Your Majesty? Brooklyn will be missing their king.” The other boy said.

 

Spot responded by shoving Racetrack hard back into the wall, giving him a rough kiss. He bit down on Race’s bottom lip, hard enough to remind Race who was in charge.

 

“Haven’t you heard?” He said with a cocky grin. “Kings can do whatever the fuck they want.”

 

“And Brooklyn’s king wants to be on his knees with my cock in his mouth?”

 

Racetrack was never one to take things lying down. Spot gave him another rough kiss.

 

“He wants you to be the one on your knees.” Spot shot back, pressing his knee between Race’s legs, giving the other boy something to grind against.

 

“Maybe I could do that… If you want to roll me for it.” Race said, taking advantage of the position of Spot’s thigh.

 

Spot let out a bark of a laugh. “So gambling is foreplay now? Maybe I should have someone keep an eye on you at Sheepshead.”

 

Now Race was laughing too. “Cause you’re scared I’m gonna fuck a horse instead of you?” He said sarcastically.

 

“You planning on it?” Spot asked, using the moment to relieve Race of his vest.

 

“No.” Race said, pulling Spot closer by his suspenders. “Don’t plan on fucking nobody but you.”

 

There was a certain tension between them now. The moment had somehow shifted, making banter seem wrong. He could swear he heard Racetrack’s heart beating; the other boy slowly moving his hands from the suspenders to Spot’s waistline. His breath hitched. Race used the shift in mood to turn them around, pressing Spot against the brick wall.

 

Spot cocked his head to the side, giving Race access to his neck. An invitation. Racetrack didn’t need to be told twice, going to work leaving hickeys down Spot’s throat. Spot ran his hands down Race’s body, unbuttoning his trousers.

 

“Was that a promise?” Spot whispered. He didn’t have to. The busy streets of Manhattan covered the sound of their voices, even at this time of night. Their alley hideaway was protected from eavesdroppers. But talking any louder would ruin whatever fragile moment had built between them.

 

“Was what a promise?” Racetrack asked, kissing down Spot’s neck.

 

“That you ain’t gonna fuck no one else.”

 

Race pulled away and looked him in the eye. “Do you want it to be?”

 

Spot paused. “I like to keep what’s mine.”

 

“And who says I’m yours?”

 

Spot tightened his grip on Race’s hips. “I do.”

 

Race ran his hand over Spot’s cheek, gently in a way that was foreign for both of them. They didn’t do gentle. They did rough, and angry, and too much too soon too fast. Gentle wasn’t a part of the vocabulary. But it seemed they were breaking all the rules tonight.

 

“I could be yours Spot. I could. But I don’t belong to fucking anybody. It’s gotta be fifty-fifty. You gotta be mine too.”

 

Spot considered it. He had worked hard to make sure that he didn’t answer to anyone. No one owned Spot Conlon.

 

And there was more to it than that. This was dangerous. Up to 20 years in prison for what he and Race did to each other. A case just last year sent two boys their age up the river to Sing-Sing on sodomy charges. Not to mention what the other newsies would say. Getting his heart involved made it trickier, made it easier to get caught. Getting his heart involved meant risking everything he’d worked for. It also meant putting his heart in Racetrack’s hand, to do with what he pleased.

 

But Spot Conlon was not a liar. When it came down to it, the truth was that Race had been holding his heart from the very beginning. Racetrack Higgins would always be his Achilles heel. Not that he’d ever admit that to anyone.

 

The next words were picked carefully.

 

“I suppose… I could be agreeable to those terms.” Spot said quietly and carefully.

 

“Then I could be yours.” Race put back, easy, as if they were deciding the terms of a card game.

 

Spot nodded and kissed him, deeply, in a way that felt unfamiliar to him but oh-so right.

 

“Mine.”

 

Racetrack shook head head and returned with a deep kiss of his own.

 

“No. Mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Drive by Halsey. This was going to be smut but then turned into 800~ words of foreplay and feelings.


End file.
